The Winter Essence
by tolkien-fan-forever
Summary: Lost is her path, but destined is she to change the world from what it is. Tawariell flees from the woods she was born to, and she deserts everything she knows and runs from those whom she loves. But when Thranduil falls into shadow, his life waxes and wanes. If she can only see the light, their evanescence could return, but if only in due time.
1. The Feast of Starlight

**Disclaimer: I do not own the 'The Hobbit' or its characters- I am merely borrowing them for this fanfiction. The characters, places, phrases and et. cetera to be used all respectively belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. I only own the original characters of Tawariell Silimaurë, Oradad and Erenil. Please leave comments and constructive criticisms on this work. Thank you and enjoy. I will be making updates as often as I can. I will also leave the Elvish to English translations at the bottom of the chapter. Thank you and do leave me some reviews!**

Chapter One: _The Feast of Starlight _(The Silimaurë's Departure)

For years on end, she had been trying to help the other peoples of Middle-earth for quite some time, in secrecy nonetheless. It was from the moment she heard of Dale's fiery demise that she had longed to help. In shadow she was kept, her life only lit by the lanterns of those halls. But for years, she had failed. She couldn't have saved Dale, or its people.

By the law of Mirkwood, it was forbidden for one of the Elvenking's kin and family to aid those without his consent; it was surely a mark of treason. But who would she be if not a princess who longed to be an ally and trusted friend to others? Who she be if not but a princess only her word?

But tonight, she would rectify her word once she left the borders of Mirkwood. She would flee, go to the valley of Imladris and seek counsel with Lord Elrond. In him she placed her trust, her well-being and thoughts; she trusted his sense of judgment.

Already she had readied herself, with nothing but her weapons, medicines and clothing arranged in her carrier sack. Her horse, Faelwen, was already prepared and waiting for her in the hidden stables. After her evening with her kin, during the feast for the summer solstice, she would leave in both silence and in peace. However, she would have do it without her adar's blessing; this was her journey, her quest, and she would not risk it over his delayed blessing.

Draped in a rhinestone-riddled gown with a silvery thin frock, the princess made her way down to the throne room where her ada waited for her. Her slipper-covered feet made their way down the cool stone steps, and she walked in an orderly stride.

Tonight it would only be she and her ada, as her muindor and the captain were out scouting the spider-infested forests that were their borders. Already the light of the throne room crept into her eyes. The long, silky red sash also peaked into the corner of her eye, and upon the antlered throne, there he sat. Slowly and softly, she walked up the stair toward him.

"Ah," he said, "so here is the beautiful gem of my halls at last. I was about to send Galion after you, _iell nin_."

Thranduil's words seemed to be fair and unsuspecting enough, and she wanted it to be kept that way throughout the evening. Her grace remained poised as she did when she approached him, her beauty shining in the lantern lights.

"As here sits the grand jewel of all this world," she said with an innocent smile.

She paused a few feet away from the last step, and she folded her hands across her abdomen peacefully. Thranduil himself walked toward her, and greeted her with a warm embrace. He was peaceful to his children, and since she was his firstborn, he planted a sweet kiss to her temple. She wrapped her arms around him for the returning gesture.

"Come now, Tawariell," he said warmly, wrapping an arm around her, "we make for the dining halls." She nodded in silence and walked with him slowly, thinking to herself.

It was festive, the feast was. Songs of merriment and tales of old were sung, just as the harps played dutifully among the Elvenking and his daughter. Elven maids danced lightly and gracefully among the royals, just as Galion served the king's favorite wine from Dorwinion.

The goblets of pure gold were filled for them both, and each sipped from them with a thirst like no other. Thranduil watched how his daughter ate slowly and in small amounts.

"My daughter, you look famished," the king said, concerned. "Won't you have more to fill your stomach? I only worry about your health and well-being."

The princess looked at him and nodded, taking larger, but simple bites of her fresh, crisp salad. After she finished her salad, she sipped the remaining reminsence of the wine she had in her jeweled goblet.

Thranduil looked at his daughter once again. The tune of the music had changed, as he had asked for it to for the last remaining hour of the evening.

Slowly, he stood up and reached out for her. She took his hand and walked toward the middle of the hall. It was a slow, beautiful piece, one that sang of their histories throughout time. He lead her into a dance, one where he happily danced with her. Their hands were combined softly and the two danced as the sounds of the Eldar's choir echoed in a serene, light melody.

As the last song of the evening began to play, the Elvenking brought his daughter close, allowing her arms to stretch out as he held them. Her fingers entwined with his, just as her back turned to touch the front of his chest.

"You seem quiet, my daughter," he said. "Are you sure you are alright? You barely ate, and you barely spoke. Surely something must be bothering you, my glistening jewel."

As she turned, Tawariell let her hand slip away from his. She shook her head and calmly said, "I am fine, Adar. There is nothing to worry about, really."

At long last, the song ended. An awkward silence preceded between father and daughter. His glassy blue eyes met her calming and mystic greys, but it was all out of arising intent that Thranduil continued to look at her. "Why are you are lying to me?" he asked her.

Tearing herself away, she withdrew her hands and shook her head again. "I am not lying to you, Adar. I would never-"

But her words were cut short the moment he caught her arm. "I want you to be honest, truthful to me. I want you to tell me what is wrong- I demand it."

The princess tore herself away again and picked up the train of her gown, only to run the other way. She breathed in tainted gasps, as she knew he would come after her. "Tawariell! Come back here! Do not ignore me!" Thranduil cried out.

The princess did not listen, but continued to run. She ducked away down a corridor, one which wasn't to be used by others except for the royals. She ran down the darkened path, and she ran immediately to the stables. _Do not show fear, _she thought to herself. _Do not let your own adar frighten you now._

Faelwen was neighing by the time she arrived at the stables, and Tawariell, throwing on only her hooded cloak, mounted the horse's back. She took ahold of the reins and began to trough her horse through the darkness of the halls. But when she reached the gate, she stopped and dismounted so that she could open it. However, she did not expect her adar's servant, Galion, to come down just as she touched the gate.

"Princess!" he cried out. "I must insist that you remain here."

She turned and unsheathed her naneth's sword, Narnamo, and pointed it in his direction. The servant came to a screeching halt, even as he threw his hands in the air.

"Galion, I know you mean well, but I have to leave. I have matters and questions that need to be answered, and so I will leave for Imladris," she calmly said, slowly.

She brought the sword down, and put its back in its sheath. She touched the gates again and forced it open with her strength.

"_Ú-chenion, aranel nîn_," Galion said, confused and with a tone of sadness in his voice.

Tawariell turned toward Galion and sighed, "_Ae aníron nad carnen, han cerithon anim_."

Alas, this confrontation between princess and servant was most unusual, as these two had not been alone like this in a millenium. Slowly, she walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him. She rested her head on his shoulder for a moment, then she looked back at him.

With soft words, he asked her in a hushed tone, "_Man gonoded eraid derithach?" _Sighing, Tawariell touched his face and touched her forehead to his own. She then caressed his face, though never actually kissing his wide lips.

But she replied to his question with a definite answer, "_Amin caela n'noa_."

In silence, she turned and let him go. She tried to repress the tears that were about to form within her eyes, but she could no longer hold them back. The crystal-clear tears fell down her pale cheeks. Galion touched her and turned her around once more.

"_Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au', a'maelamin_," he whispered. Tawariell threw her arms around him, and she warmly embraced him.

"_Hannon le, Galion. Le cenithon ned lû thent_." And with the conclusion of those words, she released him and he helped her to mount Faelwen again. She smiled once, and nodded. Galion opened the gates and allowed her to pass, though it meant he would risk the wrath of her adar, the Elvenking whom he had served for many centuries.

(Chapter two to come! )

{ Elvish to English translations:

· _Ú-chenion, aranel nîn- _I do not understand, my princess.

· _Ae aníron nad carnen, han cerithon anim- _If I want something done, I'll do it myself.

· _Man gonoded eraid derithach- _How long will you stay?

· _Amin caela n'noa- _I have no idea.

· _Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au', A'maelamin_- My heart shall weep until it sees thee again, my beloved.

· _Hannon le, Galion. Le cenithon ned lû thent- _Thank you, Galion. I shall see you in a short time.}


	2. Of Darkened Times

Chapter Two: _Of Darkened Times_

Hours had passed, and the Elvenking had heard nothing from his princess. He had been pacing back and forth outside her rooms, waiting for her to say something to him. He had been waiting for her to come out, to hold onto him and say her apologies to him.

He wanted to reconcile with her, to hold her close. She of course was his only daughter, so his heart was telling him to make peace with her. He feared that if he did not, that the Valar would separate them in the Grey Havens if he did not attempt to be a father to her. He could not, and would not, lose her, his precious daughter and heir.

"_A'maelamin," _he said softly, knocking upon her doors. "Come forth and embrace me, please. I cannot remain like this."

Moments passed. Not a single sound escaped her room, and the Elvenking's heart became rather sullen in sadness and worry.

"_Iell nín_?" he whispered. And when he heard nothing come yet again, he did not hesitate in fetching his guard. "Ereníl, Oradad! Break her door down now!" the king demanded.

The two strong Elves came toward her door and with the large log of wood, the two broke the mahogany doors off their hinges. Thranduil ran into her room and looked around.

"_Iell nín! _Answer me!"

He looked around the shadowy room and saw that her bed was empty, and her closets had been emptied. He saw how her sword had left its rack, and he saw her Elvish cloak had gone. Inside his chest, his heart began to race.

The king slumped to his knees, and his tears fell from his haunted blue eyes. The guard christened Oradad stepped forward, and asked, "My lord, shall we go after her?"

As he asked that, he watched the king throw his head toward his direction. The look in the king's eyes was one of pure desperation.

"Yes. Take Ereníl with you and search around Imladris, and take a scouting toward the boundaries of Lôthlorien. Do not rest or sleep until you find my daughter," the Elvenking said, his voice deep in a raspy horror.

Oradad and Ereníl both bowed to Thranduil, but before they left, he stopped them again. "Bring me Galion. I need to speak with him immediately. Tell him not to stray; tell him it is urgent."

It had been a secret meeting, so to speak, when Oradad found Galion. The servant had been tending to the storage of the Dorwinion wine when the guard found him. He turned his head and looked over his shoulder. Oradad's green eyes gave off a stern look, and he said, "The king wishes to see you, Galion. Immediately."

The servant's heart floundered in his chest. Had the elvenking found out at last? Would he be sentenced to death or marked for treason?

The servant complied and went out immediately toward the king's throne. Along the way, he was accompanied by Ereníl, who had left his post to sojourn with him. "Galion," he said, "_E ú-'ar hired râd_."

In a low and confused tone, Galion replied, "_Ú-chenion_."

Taking him by the arm, Ereníl hurried him into a corner and said, "The princess has fled. The king is in heavy dismay; tonight Oradad and I are to go out and search for her."

Inside his own chest, Galion felt his conscience screaming. He hadn't expected the King to react so quickly, and when he heard that Oradad and Ereníl were to leave to search for her, he felt to be the one to blame.

"Ereníl, I allowed her to leave. I helped her to leave out from under the King's sight. I am the reason why she is gone," Galion explained. Ereníl's blue eyes went wide.

He replied, "_Am man theled?" _

Sighing, the servant had no choice but to tell the guard the absolute truth. "Tawariell is traveling to Imladris, to meet with Lord Elrond. She is content on helping the Dwarfs with their struggle to take back Erebor. Do you understand? She is trying to make peace with our races."

As he finished speaking, Ereníl went defensive. "She wants to betray her own kind to help our disgusting foes? Galion, you know as well as I do that that is an act of treason against her adar and against Mirkwood. She will be marked."

"Not if she completes her quest. I have faith in her, and she will make it through."

They were contrite, Ereníl's feelings were. He looked into his eyes and saw how content and calm Galion was.

"The king will soon find out, Galion. He always has a way of finding these kinds of things out," Ereníl concluded.

A large lump formed in the servant's throat, and he swallowed it heavily. He turned and walked on alone, leaving Ereníl at the top step. Toward the King's throne room he went, with a heavy heart and a distorted conscience. He agreed. He knew the king would find out that he allowed his only daughter to leave. All would end in anger and sorrow. Thranduil did not have an eager heart and he often had a grueling judgment too.

In tears sat the Elvenking upon his throne, where he was gripping onto the throne handles in complete fear. His blue eyes alone showed fearsome memories he had stored within his mind.

"_Eru_, if you can hear me," Thranduil whispered, "please return my daughter to me."

Galion had pondered over his actions, and he wondered if the King had any distinction that he had helped Tawariell to leave unseen. His heart raced in his chest and his blood ran cold in his veins as he knelt before the King. His blue eyes shifted to the floor.

"_Heruamin_," he said. "Your faithful guard has told me that you are with a heavy heart. May I ask why there is such sorrow in my lord's mind?"

Galion inquired, trying to dissuade the knowledge into rumor. He kept his eyes away from the king's, fearful he would search deep into them.

Thranduil looked at his servant and said, "What troubles me, Galion, is that my daughter, the princess, does not dwell in her chambers. She is not here in my realm, and I fear that she has fled to somewhere else. Somewhere I believe you know."

His voice sounded grim with its deepness, and it also sounded rather angered. He stood then, attracting Galion's gaze. The Elvenking stepped down from his wooden throne and clutched onto Galion's chin, raising it higher. His hand seemed so cold.

"I know you helped my daughter escape. But Galion, I cannot fathom as to why you would help her. She is after all your future monarch, and you have the gall to keep this a secret from me, her adar? How can you betray me so!"

Then two other guards clutched onto Galion's arms and hoisted him off the floor. Thranduil turned his back toward Galion and sighed. "It is with a deep sincerity of regret that I must imprison you. Your act of treason has befallen upon me the bitter judgment that I know my daughter would resent. If she should return, she should be rather thankful that I am sparing your life. But know this Galion: if Tawariell is not returned to me, I will have your head. I do not care what others will say. A father's judgment and worry supercedes any other duty than one for a king."

With a deep octave, he looked to the guards and ordered for Galion to be taken to the dungeon. His screams entered the air with words of begging. "My daughter will return to me; but now you must pay for defying your king. I will always find out about your secrets, one way or another. You can trust me upon that promise."

(Chapter three to come!)

{Elvish to English translations:

· _A'maelamin- _My beloved.

· _Iell nín- _My daughter.

· _E ú-'ar hired râd- _He is not able to find a way.

· _Ú-chenion- _I do not understand.

· _Am man theled- _For what purpose?

· _Heruamin- _My lord.}


	3. In the Veil of Imladris

Chapter Three: _In the Veil of Imladris_

Faelwen had been troughing through forest, dirt and water for days now, resting four a few hours at a time. Tawariell's eyes were watching every crevice in the forests, and she watched over her shoulder with a clear conscience. It was important that she reach the boundaries of Imladris safely, as she needed to remain alive if she was to inquire certain matters with Lord Elrond.

Of course, it was most forbidden for an elf to ride without their superior's consent, but it was not the time for her to question her very meaning of her own journey. She now rode on Faelwen's back through the darkness of night, with nothing but the brisk moonlight to lead her through the curving paths of the grotesque-looking wood.

Up ahead was a small river, one in which she had crossed many times in her youth. This path was becoming familiar to her, as it was the appearance of a road that lead toward the valley she needed to go to.

"_Noro lim_, Faelwen," she said.

As the crows cawed and flutted from the trees, she felt as if she was being watched. At long last, she came to a parting road, one that led to the left and the other path that led to the right. She pulled the reigns and turned Faelwen right.

The white horse neighed and troughed through the impending mist. It became rather damp, the scent of the wood. Faelwen's breath showed, as did the princess' own warmth. She looked around and heard an owl hooting high up in the canopy.

She halted on Faelwen's back and paused the horse on an old road. The princess' keen eyes searched the crawling wood, and she looked toward the decaying bark of the trees. Quickly, she unsheathed her sword and kept it out at her side. She gripped the handle and felt the blood rush through her veins. Her adrenaline began to peak, and she kept a tight hold on the reigns.

With a deep reckoning in her voice, Tawariell cried out, "_Tolo sí!" _

She heard some rustling in the brush in front of her, and her sword Narnamo was clutched high above her head. "Show yourself now! I will not hesitate to unleash this fury!" she growled now. And when she ended her last demand, a tall figure showed itself upon a bulging rock up ahead.

Her eyes went wide as she saw who it was. With his own horse's reigns in his hands, a familiar lord appeared to her. Tawariell's gleaming grey eyes went wide and she bowed her head immediately, lowering her sword as well.

"_Heruamin_," she whispered.

The lord of Imladris himself approached her and knelt his head in return.

"And may I ask as to why the princess of Mirkwood has fled without her adar's consent?"

She sighed and looked away. As he was the wisest she knew, she also knew he was blessed with the gift of foresight. He walked up to her and lowered her hand, taking the sword from her; he slid Narnamo back into its sheath.

Softly, she replied, "Do you not know? Surely you must have seen my reason for deserting that dark place."

He nodded and sighed. "Ride home, Tawariell. I cannot help you."

She wrenched her hand away in protest. Elrond looked at her and kept a stern face. "I will not! I have come all this way, and I am not leaving until you've answered my questions."

In a defeated whisper, he replied, "Very well. You are to come to Imladris with me and there we shall discuss what you wish to speak of. But after that, princess, you are to ride back to your adar. Is that a promise?"

In her chest, her heart slowed at the word 'promise.' It seemed to be a relatively foreign word to her, but she nodded. "I will obey, my lord."

He nodded to her and mounted his own horse. She took off with him by his side, where they both met with the rest of his company. Their horses took off into the forest altogether, their patrols doubled and mastered. Tawariell felt more than damned at heart, but she knew Elrond. He would do her the honor of granting her the knowledge she wished to obtain.

Under the domed tower, and in a gracefully rhinestone-riddled gown, she waited for her lord to accompany her in the meeting he promised. She looked out over the falls and waited with a clear mind. Her eyes grazed the sight of Imladris, and she looked out toward the sight where her adar's darkened kingdom sat in view.

As she stood there lost in thought, her mind began to think of him, of Thranduil. She knew he would be so angry with her, and that he would probably scorn her once she returned. That was_, if _she returned. Her hands clutched onto her forearms, and she shivered at the thought of his blue eyes unleashing a gaze of hatred.

"Adar," she whispered, "forgive me, forgive your princess."

She waited in cold silence, and she wanted to cry as she continued to think of him. But behind her, Elrond approached her and said, "Why are you so contrite with yourself? What have you to fear?"

The princess turned toward the lord in the light of day, where her sad grey eyes also met his. In sorrow, a look flashed within her irises and her own memories showed. The Peredhil saw the distinguished horror in her eyes, and saw a piece of her soul slipping away. Her heart foundered in her chest.

"Where there is war, there is much turmoil," he began. "I told your ada one day to keep you safe and hidden, so that you would never know the symphony of horror that is war. But now that you've left the boundaries of your home, he cannot protect you anymore. This journey to intend to go through will be one of misery and loneliness, even as you fight for equality. The darkness will grow, and only you will be able to make your own light."

Tawariell let a tear fall as she turned back toward the fading dusk. The sun grazed the counters of the waves that fell over the falls, and the emotion of loss consumed her. Elrond walked beside her and wiped her tears away as she looked at him.

"Princess," he said, "_No i brestanneth anírach tírad vi amar_. That is all I can say unto you at this very moment."

She turned her face away from him and looked onto the sight of Imladris. Elrond retracted his hand and turned around, walking from her. But a different voice entered the air, and it was that of his page, Lindir.

The other elf bowed before them and said, "My lord Elrond, you have a visitor from Mirkwood; it is the Elvenking himself."

Now her eyes went wide and her heart leaped. She immediately turned around and looked at Elrond, whose face remained expressionless. "You sent for my adar? You did, did you not! You sent for him!" she cried out.

Even as she went to run down the stairs, she was met by another's gaze, where her misting greys met with the raging and sorrowful blues of her adar, the Elvenking. Sharply, her breath left her as she saw him standing there under the arch with his arms crossed. He walked toward her and said nothing as both Lindir and Elrond left. Tawariell was now left with her adar alone in the presence of Imladris.

"How dare you leave me like that!" he growled, his voice now raspy. "You left my boundaries, crossed my orders and disobeyed my laws, and here you stand for all to see. Have you no love for me, your adar? Have I not given you your life?"

Now he walked toward her, his flaxen pale blonde hair flowing in the warm wind. Still his eyes did not leave hers, and she kept her distance as she backed away.

"You would not have blessed my departure even if I had come to you! If you do not let me be somewhat of a change in this world, you will never see me again. I have spent too long in your shadows, and I won't be a part of a crumbling kingdom where its king will do nothing for it. I will not go back and you cannot persuade my soul otherwise! I trust my judgment to fate, and now, I leave myself in its hands. Let it be known now that you cannot change me."

Her words were sharp, distinct, and she had driven meaning behind them. She clenched her hands into fists and her grey eyes turned dark. She was not afraid of her father, and it was known by everyone who secretly watched. Looking wounded, the Elvenking sighed with a shaking pair of lips. His blue eyes remained haunted. "But you are my daughter..."

It killed her, to feel this way toward him. She did love him, as he was the one who helped to give her life. The tears brimmed her eyes and she shook her head.

"I am not yours to control anymore," she said. "Forgive me, Ada, but I am wise beyond my years and can fend for myself."

Tawariell looked to Thranduil with a heavy heart, and she sighed, just as her tears fell. She walked down the stair and passed him, knowing he would be too contrite with himself; she did not mean to anger or hurt him, but she needed to do this, she needed to complete her journey. Elrond at long last looked at her and shook his head, in mild disbelief.

"Princess, he is your ada," the Peredhil said, "and disobeying him would not be in the best interest for you." Tawariell looked at him with calm eyes, and said lowly, looking suddenly toward her ada. She saw his figure on his knees, with his hands in his face as he prayed to Eru.

"I am my own being," she replied. "I make my path, and I carve my fate into history if need be. Elrond, you must promise me one thing."

The lord of Imladris looked at her with keen and confused eyes. She cupped her hands together and sighed, closing her eyes.

She then spoke softly, "Promise me you will watch over him when I've gone. I do not know when I will return, but I hope you will trust me as I have learned to trust you over the years."

"_Uuma ma' ten' rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle_," he said to her. The princess knitted her eyebrows in moderate disagreement.

"I am not looking for anything other than the truth, Elrond. But please," she begged, holding his hands in hers in a calm, soft hold, "promise me by the sea and stars that you will protect and watch over my ada."

The older elf looked into the younger one's eyes and nodded. "I will honor you by doing what you have asked of me. Now go, _aranel_. _No i Melain na le_." Then as it was custom for their people to do so, she touched her heart, then cupped the side of his face. Elrond returned the gesture and nodded to her.

Tawariell then left, walking in haste from the canopy as she walked down the steps to Faelwen, who was troughing about in the hands of Lindir. He walked the horse up to her and passed her the reins. Bowing his head in respect, he helped her to mount Faelwen's back.

"_Nîr tôl erin baded lîn, aranel_," the page said. When he spoke of the tear, she knew he meant Thranduil. She looked to Elrond, who now knelt beside the Elvenking, speaking to him as he continued to weep.

She knew Elrond would kept their promise, and had faith in him. Without thinking, she nodded to Lindir and whispered to Faelwen, "_Noro lim_."

The horse left the courtyard in a quickened gallop, allowing the sound of her hooves to enter the ears of all who were there. The concrete held the prints of Faelwen's hooves as they left, and the bridge showed their sights off as the fading dawn turned into slow sunlight. Tawariell looked over her shoulder and back toward the direction of Imladris. She knew then, that either she had made a choice for the better or for the worse.

(Chapter four to come!)

(Elvish to English translations:

· _Noro lim- _Ride fast.

· _Tolo sí- _Come here!

· _Heruamin- _My lord.

· _No i brestanneth anírach tírad vi amar_- Be the change you wish to see in the world.

· _Uuma ma' ten' rashwe, ta tuluva a' lle- _Do not look for trouble; it will come to you.

· _No i Melain na le- _May the Valar be with you.

· _Aranel_- Princess.

· _Nîr tôl erin baded lîn- _A tear comes on your going.}


	4. Waxing and Waning

Chapter Four: Waxing and Waning

Hours had passed since she left, and Thranduil was now lying upon a thick cot that held him in an open room. The wind blew through and the summer breeze grew faint. The leaves trekked in beside his gaunt-looking figure.

His hair, the flaxen blonde color, now seemed to turn white with the distress he felt. His hands lay beside him, spread out a little by the handles of the cot where he lay, his eyes half-opened. The breath he had became rather desperate to leave his lungs, even as he breathed in the air provided by the earth.

Elrond was sitting beside him, tending to the king as he had promised Tawariell. He dabbed Thranduil's pale, ichorous-soaked forehead, swiping at the sweat with the cloth, and leaving water upon his burning skin. It was the distress she had given him that made him feel this way.

His body was burning at an accelerated temperature, and his breath became rather shallow. He knew that if Tawariell would not return soon, the king would forever remain weak, until he would decide to depart overseas if he so choosed. He saw the despair in the Elvenking's clouded blues.

With a raspy voice, the king said, "I have failed my daughter."

The dark-haired elf looked down at the king with understanding eyes. He knew the pain Thranduil was feeling, as he pictured how the memories of he and his daughter were racing through his mind. He never doubted that Thranduil loved his daughter, but he was rather concerned for his well-being.

"If I had not hidden her from the world, if I had spent my every waking moment with her, none of this would have happened. She would not have left my side."

Elrond noticed how Thranduil was blaming himself profusely for his daughter's choice. He knew too, that if Tawariell did not return, he would not be able to save the king.

"My lord," Elrond began, "your daughter will return to you. You must have faith that she will come back to you, as it will be the only thing that will keep you alive in this moment."

Then weakly, Thranduil tilted his head to look up at Elrond. "But I _have_ failed my daughter. It was because of me that she felt this need to leave our home. I am to blame, I am the one who is responsible for her deserting me. Elrond, I failed my princess, and I am paying for it now."

Shaking his head, Elrond replied, "It was her choice to leave, and it was also her choice to disobey you. She was blind in not thinking of you; if she had thought of you and Legolas, along with the shadow-riddled foundations of your kingdom, she would not have left thinking that this quest was her absolute last resort. I believe she will return to you, my lord. You must have faith in your flesh and blood."

Thranduil's eyes closed as he thought of her, his beloved princess. He sighed through his nostrils as his mouth closed. Elrond saw how tired the king was, and decided to let him sleep through his lamentations, though deep they were. He arose and left the room, looking over his shoulder only to see the king's paleness.

Lindir eventually caught up with Elrond hours later, his own breath hitching in his lungs. He panted, but kept a straight pose. "You called for me, my lord?" he wheezed.

Elrond looked at his panting page and nodded. "What I am about to tell you must stay between us, do you understand? No one else can know of this situation, not even the Greenleaf."

Lindir's brows pulled together in confusion, but he nodded in an understanding gesture. He was internally questioning himself, Lindir was. But instead, he complied and walked along side Elrond, listening intently. Elrond too wrapped his arms behind his back as they walked on.

Without pondering another moment, Elrond looked to Lindir and whispered, "_E ú-'ar hired râd, heniach nin?_ He will not long survive without the princess. He is slowly dying without her, Lindir, and this makes these moments all the more dire."

The page's eyes almost went wide when he heard about the Elvenking's well-being. "Dying?" he squeaked, almost unable to believe it. Again, Elrond nodded. "Thranduil will perish if Tawariell does not return. She is the only one who can undo what has been done. If she does not reverberate her energy into him, he will die. It is very dire, much like I said."

Looking down, then up to Elrond, Lindir said, "_Anírach i dulu nín?_" Elrond shook his head, though the thought was kindred. "I already have plans to send others out to bring her back. She is riding toward Lothlorien." Lindir's heart raced as their conversation exceeded beyond words.

"But, if any elf from Mirkwood finds out that Thranduil is dying, there will be an uprise and there will be many impetuous words given. Most will think that there is foul play at hand. And if they discover their own princess is to blame, the possibilites of her returning alive will become rather slim. She is just as endangered as her _ada_. I will be sending two others from my patrol after her. They are leaving tonight to return the princess here. But remember Lindir: not one word leaves this conversation. Am I understood?" Elrond added.

Lindir nodded his head in obediance, replying, "_Henion, heruamin_." He walked off then down the stair to follow the squad of soldiers that were preparing to leave. Lindir in his civil duties, watched as the two elves readied themselves, arming their sheaths with swords and their arrows. Elrond watched as the two scouts mounted their horses.

He then cried out to them, alerting them with an order, "_Avo visto!" _Turning their heads, the scouts nodded and then clicked their tongues, then tapping their horses on their sides. The two white stallions rode out of the courtyard with their riders. Elrond exhaled in silence, hoping that they would find her in time. If the princess did not return, the Valar would soon see the king.

(Chapter five to come!)

(Elvish to English translations:

· _E ú-'ar hired râd, heniach nin- _He is not able to find a way, do you understand me?

· _Anírach i dulu nín- _Do you want my help?

· _Avo visto- _Do not stray!}


	5. In Lorien's Gaze

Chapter Five: _In Lorien's Gaze_

Faelwen had been resting for an hour now, as had her rider. Tawariell lay beside her horse among the crackling fire she had built, but kept her sword in hand. She knew the paths to the Lorien woods were dangerous at night, even with the talk of a shadow swaying darkly overhead. All was calm in the night, except for the nervous chirping of crickets and the cawing of crows; the sound of the fire's crackles were not to be unexpected.

Tawariell had rode over rock, wood, stream and dirt to make her way to Lothlorien. She was close to their boundaries, as she could hear the voices echoing off the elderly bark. The sound of the trees with their creaking and moaning did not alarm her. Their sounds were most usual.

When at long last she continued to sleep, Tawariell's subconscience floated elsewhere as she kept her mind open. Endlessly, her mind kept an open channel, allowing memories and thoughts to pass through. She turned onto her side and continued to sleep.

However, when Faelwen's snout brushed air against her arm, she heard a voice inside her head. It wasn't a voice she was particularly familiar with, but it was one that was rather oblivious. In her mind, it was a female's voice who sounded with sincerity and a calm sterness in the tone.

_Princess, if you had paid heed to the words of your elder, much would be different. Unlike the gift the lord of Imladris has been given, your own eyes are deceived, blinded by your compulsion to prove yourself worthy. The darkness around your kingdom is growing. The shadows spread toward the heart of Mirkwood now, consuming all that is in its sight. For the darkness is not only spreading toward the heart of your kingdom, but to the heart of the one who cherishes you most. Tawariell, do not continue to be blind to what is important. Turn back and go home._

The princess' eyes opened, flashing at the ending of the speech inside her mind. She sat up and looked into the fire, where the cinders continued to burn brightly. The tones of red mashed with the sights of the orange flame, and she felt cold instantly, though warmth was parading around her. Faelwen too woke to the sudden uprise of Tawariell's body, where she neighed lowly against her arm.

"Faelwen," the princess said. "I do not know what else to do. I heard the voice inside my head, and all seems so desolate. Have I failed myself this moment, or have I destroyed all that I hold dear?"

The horse simply whinnied at the elven princess.

Again, the voice echoed in her mind, even as Tawariell stared into the fire, in a trance:

_If you do have any sense, and if you still hold true to your heart, you will ride fast back to the valley of Imladris. If you do not find your way soon, a sadness will consume you, and a tragedy beyond your thoughts will occur. Not many can change what they have done, but in your case, if you do not fight for what you believe in and for who you love, sorrowful tales will echo in your halls for all time. Tawariell, do not shallow your mind any longer. Return to the arms of the one who once taught you all that you know, even the emotion of love. Do not let the future become riddled with madness and unbearable despair, only for you to be lost within its shadow._

Tawariell stood up within a matter of a second, her eyes still glued to the sight of the fire. She felt cold inside, and she felt the shivers run through her nape and all over her skin. She grasped her arms and brought herself closer to the fire. Whose voice could whisper in her mind like that? Who could know who she was, when most did not know she existed? Looking over her shoulder, Tawariell looked at Faelwen. The horse's bright brown eyes gave off a concerned look. Faelwen's snout touched her arm again as she inched toward her rider.

"I know you think me mad, _mellon_," she began, "but I cannot desert this quest now."

The lady herself stood in front of her mirror, constantly peering into its placid waters. She stared into the waters deeply, and saw the figure of the princess still sitting there with her horse close by. The fire's colors gave the waters a tinted ripple. Galadriel's blue eyes were perplexed with anger and impatience.

She knew what was happening to Thranduil, as she had been in league with Elrond through a mental conference, speaking to him about what would happen should Tawariell stay away for much longer. She knew Thranduil's life was fading, and she knew he would not long survive the evil plaguing his kingdom as well.

Her hands clasped together in front of her, just as she continued to stare into the mirror. She knew of the stubborness that plagued the princess, and she knew how blind she was to mind the desperation of her adar's situation. She wished for the princess to leave, to go back to Rivendell to make peace with her adar, to save him from a lonesome death.

Why was his child, though illegitmate she was, keeping her distance from the one who loved her the most? Had she no heart? Did she not care about the motion that she would soon discover?

Galadriel herself decided that if the words she reverberated through the girl's mind would not help, that she herself would have to make her way down toward the ravine where the monarch stayed close to. She lifted the train of her gown and walked down the stone steps of her realm, following the lanterns that were lit in a path. She sighed in moderate disbelief to the fact that the princess would not listen to her. However stubborn she was, she had to believe that she could get the princess to change her mind. She had to try, hard and true.

Tawariell was fully awake now, and she had prepared herself for the duration of the night. She had come too far, and she was not going to give up her quest so easily. She had thought through the plans long and hard, not really caring about whom she would cross or anger. It was in her knowledge that she hoped to change the course of the future; however, it had yet to happen. She now groomed Faelwen and watched over her as the crows cawed again.

Galadriel wasn't far away, and she silent crept through the dew-riddled glades of grass. She walked endlessly and toward the princess, whose eyes were directly focused the horse. The glowing sensation of her rhinestone gown was bright, shining like one of the stars themselves. Galadriel wasn't surprised that Tawariell hadn't noticed her presence right away, and she was grateful for the lingering absence. At last, she approached the young monarch. Tawariell's eyes caught a glimpse of her glowing figure in the corner of her eye.

"I do not continue to wonder why you do not listen to me," the fair blonde-haired elf said. "I should have seen that you would not listen so willingly."

Tawariell stood up again and sighed, her breath leaving her in a gasp. Before her, she was looking upon what seemed to be an angel. She knelt her head in respect toward the fair elf, not really knowing who she was still.

Surprised, Galadriel chortled, "I am quite flattered by this, but I am more concerned about you though. I do not care if you do or do not know who I am. What is more important is the matter of your so-called journey." Tawariell looked up at her, confused.

"I apologize, my lady, but I am rather confused as to what you mean," Tawariell replied. The dark-haired elf was now perplexed herself, and she held her arms again as she met face-to-face with this fair woman before her. Galadriel sighed calmly and folded her hands across her abdomen.

"I was speaking about the matter of your intentions to help Thorin Oakenshield and his company, Tawariell. Surely you know that it is foley to help those dwarfs. They do not take to our race kindly, I may have you know. Even ask your adar."

"But I do intend to help the Lord of Silver Fountains," she said, slow and calm in return. "I left my halls in order to make peace with our races, but apparently, the grace of the Valar is not with me in this moment. Peace is what I hope to achieve with my quest, my lady. Nothing more, nothing less."

She was still blind to what was happening. Galadriel sighed. She shook her head and rose a hand in the open air. "I hope you would have seen what will come by now. It is more dire that you continue to listen to me."

Now Tawariell grew tired internally of the fair-haired maiden's preachings.

"Your adar is all that should concern you now," she said, not really revealing anything. "He is still under the care of Elrond, as you had asked of him. Though a great and wise lord Elrond is, he cannot help what has happened."

Even now, the princess' eyes grew wide with more confusion; her mouth was partically open, cracked in a halted line. Why was it that this elf kept mentioning her adar? How did she know about her in the first place? Whatever answers there were, she was sure that Galadriel would not reveal them to her. Her heart now raced.

"My lady, why do you keep speaking of my adar? What do you know that I do not?"

Galadriel's eyes went larger. Truly, the princess was most unprepossessing to it all.

"Return to Imladris, Tawariell, only then will you see the consequence of your actions," Galadriel finished.

And with those words echoing on the air, Tawariell was left alone in the darkness surrounding the outskirts of Lothlorien. Faelwen's neighs entered her ears as well, even as the fire began to die down. She went to her white horse and pet her snout.

"Shush, girl," she said.

But of course, there was only one way to do what the lady had said. She had to return, and that was it. Faelwen bucked her snout under Tawariell's chin and ushered to climb aboard her back. Realizing Galadriel was right, Tawariell mounted Faelwen and turned toward the valley, riding off into the dark distance with her conscience cleared, though worried deep.

(Chapter six to come!)

{There are no Elvish phrases in this chapter}.


	6. Fading

Chapter Six_: Fading _

Elrond had grown tired from watching over Thranduil; not much changed, for his condition remained the same. The only thing that changed was his body temperature- it dropped instead of rising like it once did. He was sicker than usual now, his skin clammy to the touch. His hair had turned completely white now, and no trace of blonde remained.

It seemed his lips were chapped and his eyes, swollen now from the tears he shed, were closing in sad blinks. But even though Elrond tried on his own to heal the Elvenking, nothing happened. His own powers were useless in this situation, and he did not know what else to do for the king. With every moment she was away, Thranduil seemed to be losing a battle.

"Elrond," he wheezed at last, his voice cracking as he looked to the Peredhil, "where is...my daughter? Has she...come back to me...yet?"

Now he seemed to be dazed, lost in a complete trance. His eyes were batting slowly, his eyes focusing in and out of sight. He was shaking as he tried to sit up, and it was apparent his strength was failing. Elrond gently placed him back down, for fear he would hurt himself if he continued to try and move. The king slid back onto the bed and did not move. He looked like a frail piece of glass already.

"Do not move anymore," Elrond cautioned, his voice calm. "If you try to move, you'll hurt yourself."

"But my daughter," Thranduil continued, "is she not here?"

In his eyes, he seemed ever so desperate for her. He longed to hold her, to scorn her, to love her like a normal father would to their offspring.

"I want my daughter in my arms," the Elvenking wept, tears flowing down the side of his pale, gauntly face.

The small clear streams flowed, and his eyes seemed heavy with tiredness. He hadn't slept well since he grew ill. Sighing, he shook his head.

"She has not returned," Elrond said.

At last, the Elvenking swallowed the lump in his throat and began to grow silent in a matter of a second. He turned his head away, and kept his eyes away from Elrond's. "Perhaps it is best, that I die. Maybe then I will see my own adar again."

Elrond went to say something, but then he watched a jolt of what seemed to be a merciless pain run through Thranduil's body. He watched as the king shifted quick and tight in the cot, arching his back out as he rolled onto his side, crying out in pain. The king's body looked rather arduous. He cringed in agony, and Elrond did not know what was happening.

"Elrond!" Thranduil cried out, suddenly grasping the other elf's arm. "This feels so sharp, so deep in my side! I feel like my blood is coursing through me like rivers of fire! It burns within me like the wounds of a serpent!" Elrond's own eyes went wide at the king's grief.

He touched the king's forehead, closing his eyes, chanting as he concentrated on elimating the pain. He kept reciting the healer's creed, and when he saw Thranduil was slipping out of consciousness, he whispered to him, "_Lasto beth nín_. _Tolo dan ngalad_."

Thranduil continued to wrench in pain, groping at his side. When Elrond's own eyes followed the direction of his hand, only to find that blood welled beneath his pale, bony hand, he was shocked in horror, as to see the color of crimson staining his cotton clothes.

"My lord!" he exclaimed. Thranduil's eyes began to close, though the bleeding was profuse. He quickly now slipped into a deep sleep; his mind raced with memories of his kingdom and daughter.

Far off to the raging forests, darkness had pilaged the sights for all to see. However, though Faelwen had ridden hard as her master had begged. For hours they were trying to diverge their path from the enemy, but their black eyes remained ever watchful, even in the darkness where they chased after her. Her sword had been withdrawn many times, even in the clashing of their rusted iron.

But now, even as Faelwen rode off into the twisted wood, she bore her beloved rider, whose side now bled. A Morgul blade had pierced her side, lacerating her liver in the process. Her eyes were faint, and her skin trembled. She barely had strength enough to hold her sword; her breath nearly caught in her throat as she rode.

There were growls, deep gutteral noises that entered the air. The deepness of the snarls that escaped the gangral creatures behind her frightened Faelwen. The Wargs had found her, and had caught her scent from when she had crossed into unfamiliar territory. Their sense of smell was strong, and their lust for death and destruction was far too great.

Faelwen now galloped around the trees, down the paths that wove into the heart of the forest. She was trying to evade capture by the Wargs' jaws, and was magnificently doing a good job of doing so. She knew her rider was ill, dying even. She had to get Tawariell to safety. Now she sped up and troughed as quickly as she could, hoping to save her master.

Now closer and closer the Wargs grew, their jaws drooling with a devious anticipation. Their eyes grew dark and their tongues were stained already from the blood of others. The color of crimson was most familiar when there were dealings with the Wargs. Danger ensued, and the smell of Tawariell's blood entered their nostrils.

The riders of the Wargs cried out, "We must not let the She-Elf get away! We must capture her and break her body!"

It was true, their hunger for elven flesh. Then in a quick leap, a Warg nearly bit one of Faelwen's legs. The white stallion however, bucked hard and knocked the Warg away quick.

Tawariell weakly looked behind her and sighed, her breath falling away from her. Her lungs felt so heavy, so weak from what was happening. Her blood left her and the pain seemed to be most inevitable. It was from Bolg, the lead Orc, that she felt the stinging sensation of horror and sharpness. His blade had pierced her side, going deep into her flesh.

But unlike many who had no one to bond with, she had no idea whatsoever of the ill-fated consequence she was now sharing with her father. She had no idea that not was her life at stake, but the life of her adar's was as well. She felt so weak, that she felt her heart slowing.

Faelwen suddenly leapt over a fallen log, where the Wargs attempted to follow, but failed at jumping successfully. Their bodies met the ravine of the forest floor, where their bodies also managed to crush some of their riders. However, Bolg and his Warg remained. His sword was raised high, and she felt the darkness closing in about her.

But when the Warg grew close, something else happened that she did not expect. A bright white light cleansed the area, illuminating it as it swept across everything in sight. Faelwen unexpectedly threw her rider from her back, allowing her to fall into what seemed to be nothing. Her pain increased, and everything went black and blank in her mind. She seemed to fade away.

(Chapter seven to come!)

(Elvish to English translations:

· _Lasto beth nín_. _Tolo dan ngalad- _Hear my voice. Come back to the light.


	7. The Winter Essence

Chapter Seven: _The Winter Essence _

"My lord!" Lindir cried out.

He raced into the dining halls, where Elrond now sat exhausted and pliant to his wine. He knelt beside Elrond's chair and sighed, catching his breath at the same time.

"We have found her," Lindir said.

Elrond looked to his loyal friend and servant, with confused and surprised eyes. As he went to move from his chair, Lindir placed a hand on his arm, stopping him.

He whispered then to him, saying in a low voice, "She has been wounded though. Her blood has left her in a rushed manner, and she is fading as we speak. I fear she will not survive, my lord."

In the manner he spoke, Lindir felt somewhat tribulated for feeling as he did. He himself had seen the wound, and knew that it was up to Elrond to save her. If his lord could save her, then perhaps the king would have somewhat of a chance to live.

"Very well," Elrond replied, "take me to the princess quickly."

Lying pliant and weak upon a bed in a separate chamber, Tawariell was fighting for her life as it was, trying to fend herself from the impending infection that was crowding her wound. Her hair lay sprawled out across the feather-filled pillow and her skin was becoming as pale as snow. The seering inflamation of the poison coursed through her like ravid fire. She winced in pain when Elrond entered the room. He quickly knelt beside her, and touched her forehead. It was burning, much like Thranduil's. She was as suffered as he was by this moment.

"Elrond," she wheezed, her breath cracking, "Do not save me. Let me die for the mistakes I have made." Her voice was true, as was her heart.

"No, you will live, Tawariell. I won't let the poison take you from this world," the healer said. He took the cut up athelas and applied it to her wound. She flinched and shrieked in pain, allowing her voice to echo throughout the halls. She thrashed, and Lindir instantly held her down before Elrond could tell him to do so.

"Calm yourself, Highness!" Lindir said, hoping to get her to lie still. "Do not cause more pain for yourself than you already have."

The athelas surged through her and absorbed the poison. Her flesh went from a gnarled purple to a soft pink instantly. Elrond healed her as quickly and as careful as he could, and she closed her eyes in a dazed blink.

"_Le hannon, heruamin_," she whispered. "The pain is melting away..."

But now she closed her eyes, inhaling air at a slow rate. She let her chest rise up and down then slow, as if not to take a breath. Elrond's brows knitted together again as he observed her. There was something he must have forgotten, something he must have left out of the process. He touched her forehead again and it went ice cold.

Elrond wrenched his hand away. As Lindir went to speak, another figure entered the room. It was Lady Galadriel, and her eyes went wide with horror. She approached the bed and stopped by Elrond's side.

"She is dying," she observed, "and she is now bound to the same fate..."

Lindir looked at Elrond and gave a gaze, with a look in his irises that asked pliantly to leave. Elrond nodded without thinking and waved him off. The page left the room immediately and in silence. Galadriel knelt beside him now, her eyes still wide in shock at the princess' condition.

"I do not know what else I missed," Elrond replied. He moved his hand over her side and slid the cloth from her side, revealing the wound. He along with his mother-in-law observed Tawariell's condition, and saw nothing out of the ordinary on the surface.

Shaking her head in amazement, Galadriel quipped, "But she is completely healed. What is killing her now?"

Hours later, Thranduil himself awoke, and groaned in pain. He flexed himself as he sat up on his bed, rising from it only to lean dependently on a nearby wooden beam. He was very weak, and was in no condition to be walking anywhere on his own. However, he did make it to the stone steps and walked down them, clutching his hands together against his chest.

The pain was still there, and he felt colder than ever before. Even now, the flesh on his fingers and his hands turned blue; the tips of his fingers were dark, and the rest of his hands were a frail and lighter blue.

It would appear like frostbite to the naked eye, and that was what it seemed to be. But it was fall, not winter, in Imladris. How was such a thing possible? Even when the air was cold, chilling even, it wasn't enough to make flesh blue.

The king continued to walk toward where he heard an internal sound of a heartbeat. It rang loud and clear in his mind, and it was there at the back of his mind's membrane. It seemed as if it were his own heart beating, but it wasn't. It was somebody else's heart beating, and he could hear it, and if he could, feel it as it was his own. As he shook, he shakily kept walking down the stone path, bare foot and in thin robes.

The winds were blowing faintly, and the leaves were scattering around yet again. Thranduil's breath left him slowly, and if it really were like winter, he could see it. It appeared to him like a bright and faint blue cloud.

Lindir had been walking by, and he noticed the king out of his bed. He walked down toward him, bowing his head in respect as he approached him. With both hands holding out, ready to catch him if he were about to fall, Lindir's eyes remained on his face.

He knew Thranduil had little time left, but now that Tawariell was here, Lindir hoped that the Elvenking would be restored to perfect health, as she would be as well. Although at the moment, the outlook seemed very bleak.

"Lindir," Thranduil wheezed. "Where is your master? Take me...to him."

"My lord, I mean no offense, but I think it would be best for you to return to your bed. You are weary, and filled with much turmoil. We cannot allow you to move around alone while you are in this condition," Lindir said, his voice on the verge of cracking with fear.

But the cold remained. It did not go away, even at the sound of Lindir's words. Thranduil felt the pain in his side fade away a little, but its sharpness was still there. He kept his hands at his chest, holding them together over his heart. Even when Lindir went to take him up the stair, the ungodly sound of a Warg's howl entered their ears. The Wargs had found the valley.

(Chapter eight to come!)

(Elvish to English translations:

· _Le hannon, heruamin- _Thank you, my lord.


	8. An Unforgettable Act

Chapter Eight: _An Unforgetable Act_

The Wargs ran along the edge of the mountains, following the paths into the great valley. The Elvish horn blew, and then small legions of warriors stood together as to create a barrier for Imladris. Elrond ran down the stairs and toward the corridor where Thranduil dwelled. He saw Lindir holding the Elvenking up, and knew that if those two continued to stand there, that Thranduil would be liable to die.

"Lindir, get him out of here!" Elrond said, running toward the armory now, going to fetch his own weapons and armor. "Don't let him fall! Do whatever you must to keep him safe!"

Nodding, the page did as he was told. He escorted the king off into the secretive tunnel, one that spiraled down into a hidden chamber. He placed the king down and ran toward the door. Lindir left the room, but turned and said, "Stay here. I have to go to your daughter. She must be brought to safety as well."

Then suddenly, as he flexed his cold blue hands against his chest, Thranduil's ears perked at the mention of his daughter. He looked at Lindir and knitted his thick brows, pulling them together.

"My daughter lives?"

It was rather difficult, for Lindir, as he couldn't explicitly say why. He just nodded in a quick motion and breathed, "Yes, for the time being. I have to bring her to you, so you must stay here, my lord. I will be back with her soon enough."

And with that, he departed from Thranduil's presence and ran up to the surface, the sound of his feet echoing off the concrete steps and stone walls. Thranduil hushed himself and gave a faint sigh of relief.

While he prayed, the sound of the Warg's ungodly, curdling roars pierced all ears. The sound of clanging armor and the outcries of the soldiers struck a sharp memory for the king. He stood up now, unable to stay away. Braving the memories, he walked upstairs, his feet trekking him up quickly. He would find Tawariell on his own.

Lindir ran quickly, not sparing a single second to stop. He rushed past soldiers, of whom were already covered with Warg and Orc blood. Their brigades had penetrated the walls of Elrond's home, and they swarmed in like hornets ready to attack an intruder to their nest.

Bolg however, saw that the princess was standing there on the edge of a balcony, where she was making her way down toward Lindir. On his Warg, he charged through the canopies of the arched halls, striking down any who were his enemies.

"Princess!" Lindir exclaimed, reaching her at last.

Even with her own condition, she looked withered, as if she were the fallen petals of a rose. She looked worn out, even as she hunched over. But suddenly, Tawariell looked over her shoulder and saw Bolg going toward the lonesome hall.

Her eyes went perplex in confusion, then she figured that only her adar would be down there. Lindir rushed to her, but she cast him aside, running toward the deathly Orc. She did not care if she'd die- she rather welcomed it, but not before something would happen to her adar.

Crying out to her, Lindir tried to plead, "Princess! Come back! Please, come back!"

But of course, it was too late. Already she had descended down the cold steps, with her back turned to him. Lindir knew she wouldn't listen either way, but he knew he had to go after her no matter what.

Tawariell crept down toward the hall where she had seen the massive Orc, but failed to keep her strength up for the time being. She slumped against the cool wall of the spiral staircase and fell onto her arm. Bolg had not heard her, but she, on the other hand could hear what he was saying to her own adar.

But she slid down the stairs as quietly as she could, hoping to take the Orc by element of surprise, but she doubted it would work, though she would try. But it was what the enemy was saying that caught her. She even saw him standing behind her adar, growling. She also saw his jagged sword in hand and felt fear.

"You cower like a worm, Elvenking. You hide your face in shame, as you should. But do you know of what has happened to your pet, to your little estranged bastard? We struck your precious She-Elf with a Morgul blade," the Orc sneered, his crooked sharp teeth forming an atrocious smile.

Weakly, Thranduil turned his head to the Orc, whose hand was clenching tightly onto the blade he now held. Thranduil wondered why he had felt the pain in his side, then it became rather obvious to him. They had killed her, his beloved princess; they'd taken her life and now, he'd never see her in the Valar, for they would now be separated.

In an outrage, Thranduil cried out, weak and in heartache, "_Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin! _You're a lying scrap of filth!"

Bolg then removed the knife which he used to strike her in the side. It was still christened with her dried blood, and the crimson had left a rusty smell upon the blade, mixing in a horrid smell with the poison that glistened its sharp ridge. Thranduil's pain only grew greater. He turned away and began to sob, his tears falling endlessly. He slumped to his knees in an instant. His face descended into his weak, blue-colored hands.

Then when Tawariell continued to make her way down the steps on her hands and knees, she saw the sword Bolg had unsheath from its holster. He rose it high above her adar's head, as to strike a final and fatal blow. Her heart palpitated with pure fear.

Her breath left her in a deep pant, and her adrenaline began to course through her veins. She couldn't let her adar die, especially like that. She'd be haunted forever if she let him die.

So, without thinking much of any tactic over, she rose up on her weak knees; she ran down the stone and panted. She ran up toward the beast and stood in front of the sword, shielding the one who had helped to give her life.

"**_No_**!" she wept, raising her hand in the air.

Bolg did not hesitate to bring the sword down. He slit the palm of her hand and struck her down, letting the gnarled edge of the blade slice down her hand and onto her shoulder. It brought her down to the cold floor, and she fell unconscious yet again. The pain seemed to fade, even with her breath. Thranduil took notice of the fallen figure beside him and he screamed. He screamed like never before, and he threw himself over her.

Blood soaked him as he covered her. Bolg was about to strike again, when suddenly Elrond himself gave a cutting gouge to the Orc's back. Bolg's knees buckled, but he still kept swinging his weapon toward Elrond. The Peredhil finally cut a limb from the enemy, allowing his sword to fall.

Meanwhile, Thranduil kept holding her in his arms. He held her close, but tried to be cautious of her new wound. Her blood flowed from the deep slash, allowing the crimson to soak down her shoulder and onto their robes.

Elrond's soldiers came and removed Bolg then, taking the bloodied carcass from the halls. Most of the other Orcs had been defeated, with their blood staining the steel of the Elven swords; others retreated on the backs of their Wargs. The smell of death had come, plaguing the beautiful valley with the scent of decay and evil. The lord himself came and knelt beside Thranduil, whose blue eyes were red again from crying.

"Save her please. I can't let her go like this," he moaned, his voice crackling. Elrond nodded, and in a minute's time, he had healers take them to the infirmary.

(Chapter nine to come!)

(Elvish to English translations:

· _Avo thano rûth vi gûr alfirin- _Do not kindle anger in an immortal heart!}


	9. Glósóli

Chapter Nine: Glosoli

Hours later, both royals were in the infirmary, side by side in their beds. Bandages had been applied to their wounds, where the athelas plant had been submerged. Water grazed their foreheads and skin, as Elrond was sure to keep them hydrated and cool. Already the Elvenking was showing improvement, but the princess however, was still unconscious. Elrond had done everything in his power to revive her, but nothing seemed to work.

Thranduil sat up, somewhat strong again. He looked over at his daughter and saw how she seemed to be as still as stone. She looked as if she were sleeping, but her chest did not rise. He feared for the worst and he removed himself from his bed. Elrond went to protest, but Thranduil rose his hand in a plead. Elrond nodded his head and said nothing.

The king knelt beside her bed and cupped her hand in his. Elrond then found it neccesary to remove himself from their presence, as to give them some space. When he left, only Thranduil and Tawariell remained. He held her hand and kissed her knuckles softly. Resting her hand against his heart, he placed the palm of his hand on her forehead, then swiping his fingers against her cheek.

"My daughter, my blood, I failed you. I did not listen to you, nor did I give you my time. I cast you away in anger and frustration, and for that, you are lying here before me in silence. I do not expect you to forgive me, for I do not look for your forgiveness. If things had been different, I would want to lie there in your place, silent and gone from the world. But you are there instead of I, and it shows how I have wronged and betrayed you. _Le annon veleth nín, a'maelamin_. _No i Melain na le_."

He knelt toward her head, placing his lips on her forehead. He kissed her tenderly, as to let the kiss linger for his memory. Tears fell from his perfect blue eyes, and onto her soft white skin. The soft redness of her lips peered from the white beauty of her skin, and her hair was flowing over the pillow in which her head lay upon. Even in death, she seemed so beautiful.

Thranduil removed his lips from her forehead, then rested his head in the hollow of her throat. The tears kept coming, but when he felt her throat move again the side of his face, his eyes went wide. Moving from her throat, he looked down at her. What happened next brought tears of joy to his eyes.

Tawariell slowly opened her eyes, and held his hand close, slowly tightening her grip on it. She gave him a closed smile as she looked at him through half-opened eyes. Cupping his face with her own hand, she replied, "No, Adar. I am the one who failed you, I know that now. I hope you can find it in _your_ heart to forgive _me_."

Thranduil said nothing, but he smiled at her, bringing her up to his chest. He held her close and wrapped both arms around her, as to keep her against him. He rocked her as if she were a small child again and kissed the temple of her head. His fingers wove in her dark hair and he continued to grin against her untouched shoulder. "_Gerich veleth nín, Tawariell_. You will always be a part of me."

Even when both were healed, he found it in his heart to ready her first for their return journey home. He'd personally packed her belongings and helped her onto their horse, whereas he mounted the spare stallion Elrond had lent him. The guard also escorted them, and at last, the Mirkwood royals were descending on their path home, back to their diseased forests that once thrived in pure light.

_Fin...For Now._

(A sequel to this story is in the works, so be on the lookout!)

(Elvish to English translations:

· _Le annon veleth nín, a'maelamin_. _No i Melain na le_- I give my love to you, my beloved. May the Valar be with you.

· _Gerich veleth nín, Tawariell- _You have my love, Tawariell.}


End file.
